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be—
    PENELOPE
    How can he drive out eleven men, by himself?
(She has a sudden idea, begins to smile.)
    He must have a plan... Yes, that’s it. He’s planning something.
    EUMAEUS
    Why bother? They are leaving, aren’t they? That will save him a lot of trouble.
    PENELOPE
    Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?
(Annoyed)
    Really! He decides to come back at last, and he expects to walk in here and find everything perfectly normal. Why, he could never even guess the trouble we’ve had.
(Angry, now)
    He might even begin to think my story was just the usual female exaggeration!
    EUMAEUS
    All he wants is peace and quiet. He’s had enough excitement—
(The door is thrown violently open. MELAS , one of the more ardent suitors, thrusts CLIA aside, and enters. He’s a powerful, handsome, dark-haired man of about thirty. He stands facing PENELOPE .)
    PENELOPE
    Melas! How dare—
    MELAS
    So you let the pig-man visit you. But we have got to stay down in the hall.
    PENELOPE
    That was your promise! If you break it, you break my promise too. Get out of here, or I’ll slash this work to pieces.
(She picks up the embroidery knife.)
    MELAS
    I came to tell you we’re moving on. There isn’t enough food left to feed the servants we had with us. We’ve sent them ahead of us to the harbour. The ship sails at noon.
(He looks over his shoulder at the open door, lowers his voice, and comes nearer to PENELOPE .)
    I’ll be back. I don’t waste three years of my life.
    PENELOPE
    The others may have the same idea. They’ll slip back here, one by one...
    MELAS
    I can deal with them singly.
    PENELOPE
    And are you so sure that they will come back singly, just to oblige you? Or even that you’ll get back here, first?
    CLIA
    Let them leave, Penelope. Let them leave!
(She watches PENELOPE anxiously, and a little puzzled with this talk. PENELOPE walks around the embroidery frame, looks at it, drops the knife, and begins to laugh. CLIA exclaims)
    Penelope!
    PENELOPE
(As MELAS comes over to the frame to see what amuses her there)
    So you were going away, were you!
    MELAS
    It’s almost finished! Why didn’t you tell me?
(His voice is angry, PENELOPE blocks the embroidery from his sight, as she looks up at him smilingly.)
    PENELOPE
    But didn’t I?
    CLIA
    Penelope! Are you insane?
    MELAS
(Stares at her, and then begins to laugh)
    You have your own brand of humour, haven’t you?
    ERYX
(He speaks from the doorway, suddenly, and everyone swings round in surprise to see he has been listening, lounging against the doorpost, his hand on the knife at his belt. ERYX is another of the suitors, about thirty-five, red-haired, lean, crafty.)
    Which you were going to share with us, Melas? But of course you were...
    PENELOPE
(Moving to the centre of the room)
    Leave, both of you! Before we have the whole mob up in my room.
    ERYX
(Soothingly)
    I only came to keep an eye on him.
    PENELOPE
    And who is keeping an eye on you, Eryx?
    ERYX
    Now, now, Penelope. You don’t seem to trust us.
(But he gives a quick look over his shoulder.)
    Yet, here’s one you can trust.
(He taps himself on the chest.)
    See, I haven’t put a foot inside your room, have I? And all I’d like to know is when that work of art will be finished. Today, tomorrow, or the next day?
    PENELOPE
(Silencing CLIA with a gesture)
    The next day.
    ERYX
    Hear that, Melas, old pal? Don’t tell me that you distrust the lady’s word. Come on, leave her in peace.
(His voice, when he is addressing MELAS , is always hard, biting, sarcastic.)
    MELAS
(Moves away from the embroidery frame)
    A couple of days should finish it.
    ERYX
    I’ll take Penelope’s word for it.
(To PENELOPE , his voice now dripping politeness, and yet all the more menacing)
    At your service. Always. You’ll remember that?
(He bows, and then leaves.)
    PENELOPE
(To MELAS )
    Now it’s your turn to show me how noble at heart you really are.
    MELAS
(Pointing to the embroidery frame)
    Tell me, what’s wrong with it?
    PENELOPE
    Aren’t you leaving?